Maybe
by Avenli Rayne
Summary: Why does Lily always turn down James? It's simple: to save her reputation, and it's tradition.


Maybe . . .

By Avenli Rayne

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing!

It all started near the end of 4th year. I was a gawky, short, shy, flat chested 14-year-old. I wasn't what you'd call a social reject, but I was anything but popular. I had my close circle of friends, and that was all that mattered. I also had a crush on the ever-popular James Potter – not that any of my friends knew. He was everything I wanted to be and more.

James Potter oozed self-confidence. He was funny, both sarcastic and whitty. Everyone wanted to be his friend, with the obvious exception of the Slytherins. He did well in his classes without a lot of effort. He was naturally athletic, if still a bit on the short side at 14. Even though he was a bit rebellious, all the teachers had a soft spot for him. Something about the mischievous look in his hazel eyes just made you want to like him. He was loyal, brave, and true – the perfect Gryffindor, and I wanted to be just like him.

James was a friend with almost everyone, but my social group never really talked with his. We weren't what you'd call friends, but we were far from enemies. We simply coexisted. With the exception of Remus, I never conversed with his close friends, the 'Marauders'.

So you can imagine my shock, when one day after Transfiguration James Potter asked me out. Me! Short, quiet, teacher-pet Evans. I froze. Was this some kind of sick joke? After about 20 seconds of silence, he waved his hand wildly in my face.

"Evans, you okay?" Trying to regain my composure, I breathed in deeply.

"No," I said. James looked incredulous.

"No?" he questioned seriously. I nodded my head, face bright red as a tomato, and I started of quickly down the hall.

I felt tears brimming at the edge of my eyes. How could he be so rude? To ask me out as a joke in front of the entire class? But, recalling the sad, shocked look on his face, I knew it hadn't been a joke. James Potter, THE James Potter, had asked me out, and I had panicked and said no. I could have died from embarrassment. I could picture them now: 'That Lily Evans is sure stuck up. She wouldn't go on a date with James Potter!" In all truth, I was just scared. No boy had ever asked me out before, and it terrified me, especially coming from James.

I avoided James like the plague all the next day. Ever now and then, I'd sneak a glance at him, and he seemed completely unaffected. He laughed the same as usual, and it killed me. I had messed up my only chance with a boy I really liked and probably with any other boy in the future. I felt doomed to an eternal life of bachlorette-hood.

I won my game of avoidance until after Care of Magical Creatures when I saw him sauntering up the path towards me. I tried to hide.

"Hey Evans!" He called over. I had failed.

"Yes?" I replied timidly.

"Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?"

"No." My mouth said before my brain or heart had gotten a word in edgewise. My heart broke as I said it. Why hadn't I thought about it first? I tried to rationalize it in my head. 'He's just trying to keep a good reputation. Now that you've said no, you need to keep a good reputation, too. You can't let them know you messed up.' I had dug myself into a hole. I had to say no now.

"Why not?" he asked determinedly

"I just can't, okay?" I replied exasperatedly as I hurried up the path.

"Can't or won't?" he challenged, following me. 'Man he's good,' I thought.

"Both," I replied before turning away, and leaving him standing confused in my wake.

And so began our little game. Once a week, and sometimes more, James Potter would ask me out. 'He as to give up sometime,' I reasoned. The sad thing as that he was probably thinking the same thing.

His tactics would change every so often, but my answer never would, even though it got meaner as time went on.

"Hogsmeade?" He'd state simply.

"No," I'd reply.

"Lily Rose Evans, would you so kindly accompany me on a date this fine autumn evening?"

"Not in a million years Potter."

"Me plus you equals Hogsmeade?"

"No. Not if my life depended upon it."

To this day, our 'game' continues. Everyone wonders why we just don't give up. Some think of it as a yearly tradition. Others think it's funny, a waste of time, or both. In all truth, for me, it's to keep up my reputation, and to try to control my guilt. Everytime I say no, I wish I was saying the opposite. After all these years, I'm sure that James doesn't really mean it. Why would he still like a girl who's turned him down every week for over three years? For him, it's for his reputation as much as it is for mine. He's supposed to ask me out, and I'm supposed to shoot him down. It's just the way things work. Tradition. And no one messes with tradition.

I'm no longer the shy, gawky, flat-chested, short (will, I'm still short), 14-year-old he first asked out. Now I've matured, and I don't think I'm too horrible looking. Being a prefect helped me gain people skills, leaderships ability, and confidence in myself. The only thing I'm not confident about is James.

No matter how many things I claim I hate about him (it's how I avoid the guilt), I still like him – a lot. I've never stopped liking him. Sure, he can be highly annoying at times, but he's a good, nice kid. He's charming (when he wants to be), tall (when did that happen?), kind, handsome (no one would argue here), and surprisingly responsible. I often find myself starring at him during class. I love the way he bites his lip when he concentrates, and the way he ruffles his hair when he's frustrated. I love his quirky crooked grin, and his sense of adventure. Several times he's caught me staring at him. I blush and look away quickly, vowing that I'll never stare again, but I just can't help myself. The one thing I want to be able to do most is to have the courage to say one word – yes. I don't know how many times I've dreamed about saying yes. It's too bad I'm so stinking stubborn. (It's the red hair, I tell you.) I can't let people know that I messed up. I was a scared little 4th year, and now I'm too stubborn to be any different now. I guess I'm too prideful. I wish that I could live up to my house. James does it so well.

This year, our last year, his asking has slowed, and almost stopped. Maybe he's given up. Maybe he's not interested. Maybe I've lost my chance forever. Maybe it's my own fault that I'll never be able to look deep into his beautiful hazel eyes, like I've dreamed of countless nights.

I've kicked myself so many times for losing my chances. Maybe he'll ask again, I hope. Maybe he hasn't given up. Maybe, one day, I'll have the courage to say one simple word: yes.


End file.
